Pillow Talk
by NothingFromNowhereImNoOneAtAll
Summary: SLASH. After a visit that somehow winds up in the bedroom, Mistoffelees and Tugger reflect on love, sex, the whereabouts of clothing, and what the hell just happened. One-shot. TuggerXMisto. First in the "Head Over Heels" series.


First attempt at a CATS fanfic, let alone Catslash. Screw canon, these two are perfect together. (I was kind of tempted to type "purrfect", but I think Eartha Kitt was the only one who could pull things like that off.)

Rated for mentions of non-explicit sexual content and Tugger's eloquent phrasing in one instance.

I don't own "CATS"—it is the respective property of The Really Useful Group (RUG) and T.S. Eliot and his estate. This is all written for fun.

As far as visualizations go, I picture the characters as they appear in the musical—anthropomorphic cat-people. In this story in particular, I take it a step further, as they not only live in apartments, but they wear normal clothing (including, apparently, shoes) over the costumes worn in the show. Hope that clears things up.

This was initially written as a one-shot and can still be read as one, but I've decided to expand the storyline and make a three-part series out of it. More information can be found on my profile.

Thank you so much for reading, and maybe you'll see me around here again soon!

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**"Pillow Talk"**

"That was…well—"

"You don't really have to say anything, Misto." Tugger had finished fishing his boxers out from under the bed. "I mean, no offence, but I'm kind of used to this, y'know?"

Mistoffelees shrugged, slipping into his briefs. His breathing had slowed to its usual instinctive rhythm. "Guess so," he mused. The two toms sat with their backs to each other, Tugger on one side, Mistoffelees on the other, both trying to sort out their various articles of clothing from their companion's. The tuxedo cat selected a sock from the floor and examined it for size. "You don't exactly seem like someone who would enjoy pillow talk."

Tugger's grimace was almost audible. "I don't see the point of it, really," he said, sliding into his boxers with practiced ease. "I mean, what? You lie around and give each other meaningless one-word appraisals of how good the sex was?"

"Never thought you'd be the one to say that, Tugger."

"What? I'm in it for the sex, not the meandering conversation afterwards. This is the closest I've ever allowed to it, actually."

Scratching the back of his neck, Mistoffelees smirked. "In the last five minutes, you've managed to use the words 'appraisals' and 'meandering' correctly in a sentence. I'm impressed."

Tugger's tail twitched. "You wound me, Misto," he drawled. "And just for the record, you really don't give me enough credit."

"So you've told me."

The Maine Coon scowled as he grabbed for a pair of jeans. "Though, no one does, really," he said. "I'm actually not as moronic as everyone likes to say I am."

Mistoffelees gave a shrug as he pulled on another sock. "The fact that you're kind of a whore doesn't exactly help your case, though."

"Thank you for that novel insight. These are your jeans, by the way."

The tuxedo caught the pair of pants that was tossed to him. "Thanks," he said, and he shook them out before stepping in, being careful not to get his tail caught. "But you do have to admit," he said as he shimmied his hips to get back in his jeans, "your reputation for sleeping around doesn't exactly make you look like a genius."

"Said the tom who just rode me like a bull," Tugger retorted as he crouched to the floor, searching for his own pants.

"Touché." Mistoffelees zipped up his jeans. "Although for all your sleeping around, I really had no idea that you were into toms."

"Not exclusively," Tugger clarified, reaching far under the bed for his jeans. Mistoffelees had clearly not been aiming when he'd tossed them to the floor earlier. "I mean, I swing both ways."

"And how's that working out for you?"

"Actually, it's pretty spectacular. More sex. You know—since more people are willing."

"Good point," mumbled Mistoffelees as he picked up his wristwatch from the floor. Tugger had all but ripped it off earlier when they tumbled onto his bed. "Just curious—who's the best that you've slept with?"

"Tom or queen?" Tugger asked as he shoved his jeans on.

"Either-or," the tuxedo replied, adjusting the clasp on his watch. "If you don't mind my asking."

Tugger paused, lips pursed in thought. His hands were on his hips and his tail swished behind him. "Queens?" he started. "Bombalurina, definitely. She's a bombshell, you know what I mean? Gorgeous." Tugger scratched at his ear. "Rumpleteazer's great too, and she can do things with her tongue that I've never dreamed possible."

"I'm sure her brother would appreciate that information."

"Mungo's too over-protective of her. That's why I've only been with Teazer a few times—otherwise, he'll have my hide." He glanced over his shoulder. "I hear he's got connections."

Mistoffelees gave a shrug as he stared at the wall. "So why don't you just settle down? Or just stick to one girl at a time?" he asked casually. "The thought must have occurred to you, hasn't it?"

Tugger looked like he had just smelled something sour. "Of course I've thought about it. But I'm having fun. I enjoy myself every night. And besides, there are still a few catches that I haven't quite gotten my hands on yet."

"Like who?"

"Actually, Mungo."

Mistoffelees scoured the relatively clean floor for his shirt. "Mungojerrie's straight, though," he said.

"Hence why I haven't slept with him." Tugger let out a sigh, eyes fixed on the wall facing him. "But some of the other toms I've tried things with are good, too. Alonzo comes to mind."

"I thought you two hated each other," said Mistoffelees, who still couldn't find his shirt.

Tugger shrugged, examining his mane. "'Hate' is putting it kindly," he stated, combing out the fur in his mane with his fingers.

"I fail to see how this works out in your favor." Mistoffelees was checking under the bed.

"Actually, it sort of makes the sex better. Less of a pretense for affection, you know? More straight-up fucking."

"Charming. Have you seen my shirt anywhere?"

"It's probably in the living room," answered Tugger, working out a knot where Mistoffelees had been latching onto him less than ten minutes before.

"Thanks." Mistoffelees picked himself off of the floor and made his way into the hall. Tugger's apartment was relatively small, so it was a short walk from his doorway to the living room. When he arrived, the tuxedo's eyes were drawn to the center of the room, where his white polo lay, deflated underneath one arm of the couch.

Tugger had followed, and stopped at the entrance to the hallway. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, watching as the smaller tom pulled his shirt over his head. Casually, he said, "You know, you were actually one of the best that I've had. Better than Alonzo, actually."

"I'm touched," Mistoffelees deadpanned as he tried to smooth out his shirt over his chest. Tugger's eyes didn't leave him as he glanced at his waist. "Forgot my belt," the small cat muttered, and he approached the hallway.

He brushed past Tugger and cursed the way his breath hitched. He could remember running his nails down the Maine Coon's back, and since Tugger had only bothered to put his jeans on, Mistoffelees could see the scratch marks that he had made.

Once he stepped inside the Maine Coon's bedroom, he spotted his belt. The tuxedo bent down to grab for it, started pulling it through his belt loops, and entered the hallway to find Tugger's eyes on his. The toms stared at each other, and for some reason, Mistoffelees' breaths came out sharp. This was supposed to have been casual. After a moment, the tuxedo asked, "How on Earth did I get roped into sleeping with you?"

"Actually, you didn't sleep with me. We just had sex. No sleeping involved."

"Fine. Having sex with you then, if you'd rather be technical."

Tugger rested his head against the wall, and he gave a shrug. "Easy. You stopped by because we hadn't talked in a while. We were catching up and sitting on the couch. One thing leads to another."

Tightening his belt, Mistoffelees asked, "So, is it safe to assume that you started it?"

"I couldn't tell you, Misto," Tugger said, pursing his lips. "I don't really know if either of us 'started it'. It just sort of happened."

"You're saying that my visit magically ended up in us having sex?"

"I'm saying that after a series of mundane subtleties and one mutually unexpected kiss—I don't even remember who it was—we went for each other, yes."

Mistoffelees stood at the entrance to Tugger's bedroom, hands on his hips. "I guess that's reason enough," he muttered.

"I guess." Tugger's eyes hadn't left Mistoffelees. He was still thinking about the way the small tom's breaths had come out in ragged pants, the way his shaking fingers had been splayed against Tugger's chest.

Mistoffelees bit his lip, and as he walked past Tugger to retrieve his shoes, he willed himself not to think of his friend's mouth on his.

With a deep sigh, the Maine Coon watched his small companion sit on the floor and pull his shoes on. The sound of his air conditioner moaned in the background. After a moment, Tugger asked, "So. What are you doing for the rest of the day?"

The tuxedo shrugged, lacing up his Oxfords. "Go back to the dance studio, I guess," he answered. "A new show is coming up, and I've still got a lot of work to do if I want to get a principal role."

"You're a great dancer, Misto," Tugger said, and somehow, his voice had softened. "I would know—I've seen you a thousand times. You'll be fine."

Mistoffelees couldn't help the way he froze at hearing Tugger's remark. It was common knowledge that the Maine Coon didn't believe in false flattery, and even so, he hardly ever gave out compliments that weren't sexual in nature. Mistoffelees had never been so bluntly flattered before. "Thank you," he said as evenly as he could.

"You're welcome."

The air conditioner groaned throughout the apartment, and the two toms breathed in synchrony.

Clearing his throat after a moment, Mistoffelees stood up and brushed off his shirt. He made the conscious effort to find his keys, and reached over to the near table where they sat in a bowl. Slowly, his gaze traveled to meet Tugger's, keys jingling with the motion. Something made it hard for him to breathe when he said, "So. Guess I'll be heading out, then."

Tugger wasn't budging from his spot at the end of the hallway. "Alright. See you around."

The tuxedo nodded his head, turning towards the door. Tugger didn't move a muscle. Mistoffelees grabbed the doorknob, bit his lip, and turned back to look at the Maine Coon. "The sex was great, by the way," he said.

Tugger swallowed. "It really was."

Silence. With a sigh, Mistoffelees opened the door.

"Wait—Mistoffelees."

The small tom turned to see Tugger approaching him, scratching the back of his neck. His heart very nearly skipped a beat.

Tugger's eyes were traveling the length of the floor moudling when he said, "I was wondering—maybe after your rehearsal at the studio, if you would want to come back here?" His eyes met Mistoffelees'. "I mean, you're pretty good company."

Mistoffelees blinked, swallowing as he slowly nodded his head. "I—yeah. That sounds nice."

"Good."

The toms avoided each other's eyes; Tugger stood in the middle of his living room, and Mistoffelees had one hand on the door. Twenty minutes ago, they had been pawing at each other on the couch. Mistoffelees had been panting in-between feverish kisses that this was a one-time thing while Tugger had worked on wrenching his friend's shirt off.

Tugger took another hesitant step closer. "Hey, Misto. Can I—can I try something really quick?"

The smaller tom cocked his head to the side and asked, "Try what?"

"Just a little something, it won't take long." The Maine Coon stepped forward, and the two toms were almost touching as Tugger's gaze flickered to Mistoffelees' lips. Gingerly, he ran his hand down the side of his friend's face; Mistoffelees fought back a shiver.

Tugger's eyes sought out his friend's, and slowly, as though he were giving the tuxedo a chance to run away, Tugger lowered his head and gave Mistoffelees a soft kiss.

There was none of his usual perversion in his kiss: no tongue-thrusting or teeth clashing or subsequent groping. Somehow, it was chaste. Tender. Tugger had one hand on his friend's hip, his lips were soft, and Mistoffelees felt himself kissing back as his eyes fluttered closed.

They broke apart and with an inhale, the small cat allowed a grin to pass his lips. "That…that was, um—"

"That was nice," Tugger finished for him, returning the smile. His hand was still resting on the other tom's hip. He pulled it away and scratched at his neck. "So, I guess I'll see you tonight."

Mistoffelees nodded, eyes bright. "Yeah. See you tonight." He opened the door a little further. "Bye, Tugger."

"Bye, Misto."

As the tuxedo took a step outside, Tugger stopped him with, "Oh—and Misto?" The cat in question turned to look at his friend, and Tugger was wearing a smirk. "Thanks for the conversation. I mean, I hate talking after sex, but frankly? I could get used to that."

Before he closed the door behind himself, Mistoffelees gave Tugger a smile, his heart fluttering. "You know, I think I could, too."


End file.
